Zukunft Ohne Menschen

Profan;
2013

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Art gallery primness has always gnawed at the edge of Wolfgang Voigt's considerable output. He's mostly avoided it, adopting new monikers and collaborators at the pace of a much younger artist. The rot has crept in lately, as works under his given name, like 2010's Freiland Klaviermusik, have been turgid, stuffy affairs. Zukunft Ohne Menschen-- created as part of an installation that will greet visitors to Cologne's art fair, Art Cologne-- returns to more pliable textures laid out in familiar, rhythmic sequences that could reasonably be described as riffs. In that sense, Zukunft is unexpectedly accessible, inasmuch as it features sounds and tones that creep into actual pop and dance music. But it's also flatly boring, repetitive and limited, begging the question of what it means to be stuck in a rut for an artist that has fashioned a career out of meticulous, repeating phrases.

Zukunft is built from a paucity of elements, containing essentially two sounds: a thick, flatulent synth that functions as the bass, and a high-pitched, piano-like twinkle. Occasionally, as on "Z.O.M 1.4", a slight variation of these sounds is added. A dull kick drum accompanies these sounds on the second track, then disappears. The bass sound worms around, arranged in sequences that sound a little like Kraftwerk's Teutonic pulse but with every last drop of funk squeezed out. The higher-pitched sound cuts through the mix, occupying less space but demanding more attention. Voigt uses it to play improvised melodies, or at least melodies that sound improvised. And that's all: Zukunft's entire hour-long runtime is composed of two sounds pirouetting around one another.

It's important to note that this isn't virtuoso synthesizer work; these are common sounds that don't morph or change over the course each track. All of Zukunft's artistry is tied to the composition of its patterns, which vary from painfully lethargic ("Z.O.M 1.5", "Z.O.M 1.8") to mildly rambunctious ("Z.O.M 1.10"). The latter type of track whips up a modest, pointillist gust and at least gives the impression that something is happening. The slower tracks, though, play like a cynic's hammy impersonation of German computer music: laughably ponderous and self-serious. Voigt's minimal works have always benefitted from repeat listens and great attention, which reveal dubby iridescence and cryptic depth. Zukunft, though, has nothing to reveal. Its tones are staid, its patterns are boxy. It is music that rubs its limits in your face.

Zukunft comes packaged with a book of digital/photographic art by Voigt, but it adds little context. Similarly, it's difficult to imagine Zukunft improving as the at-bat music for an art show. It's not welcoming or beautiful; It's obtuse and empty, echoing the very worst assumptions people have about modern art. Zukunft is also lazy, a one-idea album because only one idea was required. Unlike so much of Voigt's past work, it's not an idea worth exploring at this length. Zukunft's only impressive feat is making Voigt's elegant, pristine work under guises like Studio 1 and Gas seem like the work of a raving, impassioned romantic.